


wake me up (and tell me it's not true)

by jlhb



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Autistic Spencer Reid, Case Fic, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid are Siblings, Derek and Emily are Bros, Derek is a Big Brother and you cant convince me otherwise, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I really don't know where this is going, Poisoning, Sweet Spencer Reid, ill update tags with each chapter, near the end, no beta we die like men, not explicitly but every reid i write is autistic, this may get longer idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlhb/pseuds/jlhb
Summary: Even though this tournament was bigger in attendance than the other’s you had hosted, you had expected it to run smoothly. Type-A since birth, you planned these events months in advance, coordinating every last detail until you were sure that there would be no flaws in the schedule. This event was no different. You had reserved the venue in March, gotten sponsors by July and gotten an attendance list by August. Every detail was meticulously laid out, and nothing should have gone wrong.But ‘should haves’ mean nothing when the universe is unpredictable.---This is a Spencer Reid x Reader fic I wrote for ms.huny_bunny on tiktok. Essentially Reid and Reader fall in love after someone is killed during a video game tournament that Reader hosts, and it happens to be Spencer's favorite game (I know it's ooc I'm bending canon a bit). I hope you like it!
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You, The BAU Team & Reader, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	wake me up (and tell me it's not true)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: non-graphic depiction of an anxiety attack and all the stuff that can be typically found in an ep of Criminal Minds. 
> 
> I don't own these characters, I'm just having fun. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

You hadn’t expected for the tournament to have such a big turnout. To be honest, out of all the tournaments you had ever hosted, this was the biggest turnout by almost double, and you didn’t know what you had done to garner such a group. 

When you had started hosting these StarCraft tournaments in person, only a few of your most loyal fans showed up. As you had began to grow in following, though, the coffee shops and game stores where you held the contests began to feel more and more crowded, until you were here, in the packed gymnasium, surrounded by people who wanted your attention and your opinion on their games. 

Even though this tournament was bigger in attendance than the other’s you had hosted, you had expected it to run smoothly. Type-A since birth, you planned these events months in advance, coordinating every last detail until you were sure that there would be no flaws in the schedule. This event was no different. You had reserved the venue in March, gotten sponsors by July and gotten an attendance list by August. Every detail was meticulously laid out, and nothing should have gone wrong. 

But ‘should haves’ mean nothing when the universe is unpredictable. 

So here you were, standing outside the (slightly decrepit) YMCA, facing a veritable army of reporters. 

“Y/N, can you tell us anything about the man who died here today.” Your heart dropped. You still hadn’t completely adjusted to the fact that someone had died during your tournament. “Is it true that he was murdered?” What? No, no, that couldn’t be right. He had keeled over. There were no shots, there was no knife, there wasn’t even any blood!

“Murdered?” You managed to stammer out. “He just keeled over!” You knew your voice had risen an octave from its usual pitch, and you didn’t know how much you were allowed to tell the reporters, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. This couldn’t have been a murder. It couldn’t…

“Yes, there were traces of Sodium fluoroacetate found in his water. You didn’t know this?” 

You didn’t know what to do. On top of a death, it was a murder! Was this your fault, did you unknowingly let the murderer in? Or was there something wrong with the water bottles you’d given out? No, then everyone else would be dead. Oh god, was everyone there about to die. Were you about to die?

You felt your breath speeding up. You weren’t unfamiliar with panic attacks. They happened every once in a while, a result of a childhood spent fretting over every detail. To make it worse, the reporter’s voices only got louder as they shouted over one another, all of them desperately trying to have their voices heard and their questions answered. You looked for an exit, but were backed against the front of the building, cornered by reporters, and trapped. All that was left for you to do was spiral. You raised your hands in front of your ears, desperately trying to dampen the noise radiating from the reporters. You stood like this, shaking and trying to block out the noise, until you found that the crowd of reporters had dissipated, and in their place stood two men and a woman. 

Blinking uncertainly, you let your gaze travel between the three. The first man was tall, muscular, and objectively handsome. With dark skin and kind eyes, he looked like the kind of guy who should be a model, and yet he gave you the impression that you were safe. Next was the smaller man. He was skinny, almost alarmingly so, and his wavy light brown hair hung around his chin. Though not as attractive as the other man, he had a sweet, nerdy look to him, like a TA or a grad student. The woman was pale, and definitely the most intimidating of the three. With dark black hair and a hard look in her eyes, everything about her screamed business. 

The first man spoke. 

“Hi, my name is Derek Morgan, I’m with the FBI. Are you y/n?” His voice was exactly as deep as you had expected it to be. 

“Uh, yeah. Did- do you guys need something? This is about the death? I didn’t think her FBI came for stuff like this.” Your voice was laced with confusion as your eyes jumped between the three. You didn’t know what you expected, but their faces remained impassive, not revealing anything about their intentions. The smaller man was the next to speak.

“Yeah, we believe that this may be connected to some other recent deaths. We’d like to talk to you somewhere private, would you be comfortable coming with us?” You were caught off guard by the question, and with your walls already down after your panic attack, the next question was asked without a filter.

“Why are you asking me if I’m comfortable?” Realizing the stupidity of your question, you backtracked. “No- no, I didn’t mean- yes, I’ll come with you. Can I please grab my bag before we go?”

The three agents seemed to soften slightly at your anxiety, and the smaller man was the first to speak. “Of course. One of us has to go with you, though. Let’s get your bag.”

You led the way through the door faltering slightly at his directness. 

“I just realized I don’t know your name, but you know mine.” It was a weak attempt at small talk, you knew, but the silence was deafening and the police tape surrounding the gymnasium was making you nervous. 

“Oh, I’m, uh, Dr. Spencer Reid. Nice to meet you.” His voice was quieter now that he was away from his colleagues, and you could tell his words were sincere. 

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you too. I’m sorry, I’m not one for shaking, too many germs.”

You realized as you said it that Reid was smiling at you, and had finished your sentence the same time you did.

“No problem!” He said brightly. “I don’t shake either, normally I’m the one giving that line!”

They both laughed lightly. 

“My bag’s right over here. I just have to grab it and then we’ll be good to go.” A thought crossed y/n’s mind. “What should I do with my car?”

“Well, since you’re not a suspect and we just want to know what you know, you don’t have to ride with us, but if you don’t feel comfortable driving, you’re welcome to drive back with us and we can have an officer bring your car to the station.” Taking stock of your body as you grabbed your bag, you realized that Reid’s plan made sense. You were still shaken from the panic attack, and you didn’t even know what police station to go to. Besides, riding with him wouldn’t be so bad.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to ride with you and your colleagues. I’m a little bit shaken, plus, I don't know where we’re going.” A look crossed his face, like he was hoping you’d say yes, and he assured you that you were welcome to ride with them. With your bag ready to go, he walked you back outside, Reid directing you to an officer who you could give your keys to while he told the other agents what would happen. 

The car ride over was mostly silent, but you noticed Morgan and the woman exchanged glances throughout the drive, seeming to converse without words. You were in the back seat with Reid, holding your bag tightly to your chest and allowing your imagination to run wild in the silence of the car. Your thoughts were plagued with questions and possibilities, all centered around the murder that took place at your tournament. Your main concern was that it was somehow your fault. You didn’t know if you could live with yourself if an action you had taken -or not taken- had even inadvertently caused someone’s death.

Interrupting your thought spiral, you felt the car roll to a stop outside of an exceedingly average police station, and you felt the car shake slightly as the rest of the occupants got out and headed inside. 

Being walked into a police station by three FBI agents for questioning in regards to a murder that happened at your tournament was decidedly NOT on your day plan, but you found yourself distracted by the sounds of the police station and the sheer amount of people there. It looked like multiple police forces were there, and it was only then that the gravity of what you were involved in hit you. 

This wasn’t a one time thing. This wasn’t an accidental death, and there were others who had died the same way your participant died today. By your count, there were nine pictures hanging on a whiteboard, not including the photo of the most recent victim. 

You felt a hand directing you towards a side room, where it was mercifully quieter, and as you looked up, you saw three other agents staring at you, two older men, one who looked to be younger though he was starting to grey, and a young blonde woman. Unconsciously, you shied away from their gazes, positioning yourself so you were standing slightly behind Reid and Morgan. The younger man introduced himself and the rest of his team with authoritative confidence that had you sure he was the man in charge.

“Y/N? I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Rossi and our media liaison, Jennifer Jareau. I assume that you’ve met Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss and they’ve told you why you are needed here?” You nodded your head in assent. You saw, too, Morgan shaking with barely contained laughter as he shook the dark haired woman, Prentiss, you assumed, playfully. 

“Prentiss, did you seriously forget to introduce yourself again?” Morgan’s voice was light with laughter. “C’mon, this is like the third time! Get your shit together.” It was all said in jest, but Prentiss punched him in the shoulder, sparking a strange, almost sibling-like slap fight between the two, that was only stopped by a stern “Morgan, Prentiss, cut it out.” from the man who called himself Hotchner. 

“Y/N, we need to know what you know.” The playful mood instantly sombered. “Would you please sit?” You did as Hotchner asked. Something told you that you should do what he asked. “Morgan, Prentiss, you two go check in with the ME, we need to know what the cause of death was. JJ, you go try to hold off the press for a bit. This happened in a public place at a major event, and every reporter in the area wants answers. Once you’re done, check in with Garcia, please. Rossi, finish setting up the board, then start going through the files, we need to know if these victims have anything in common before we can start on the profile. Reid and I will conduct Y/N’s interview. Please, you all know how important this is. If he is a spree killer like we think he is, then time is of the essence.”

They all nodded and left the room chatting slightly between each other. You thought you saw Prentiss punch Morgan again, but you couldn’t be sure. Hotcher sighed deeply and sat down, drawing your attention back to the two men. 

You saw Reid take a small notebook out of his messenger bag and begin to jot things down before either you or Agent Hotchner had begun to speak. Hotchner started the conversation.

“So, y/n, let’s start from the beginning. You host video game tournaments, correct?” You nodded. “Do you have a guest list of your participants?” You nodded again. “Ok, we’re going to need that, as well as any other logistical information you can give us. Now, we have a few questions.”

The interview continued slowly from there as you tried to answer their questions as best you could, occasionally surprised by the seemingly random nature of their questions. Slowly, you saw the other members of the team appear near Rossi at the large white board until Hotchner and Reid seemed satisfied with your answers and decided to walk you out. 

As Reid led you out the door, leaving Hotchner to review his notes, he asked one last question, as an attempt to put you at ease. 

“So, what game do you play there?” He seemed slightly tired, but you knew your nerves were radiating from every pore of your body and he seemed apologetic about causing you stress. 

“It’s a game called StarCraft. It doesn’t have a huge following, but the gameplay and mechanics are super interesting, and, well, you probably don’t want to hear all of that.”

“No no no! I hate technology, but my friend Garcia loves it, and she’s trying to ease me into computers through gaming! StarCraft is the best one we’ve played so far! The animations are incredible!” His voice got higher as he got excited, you noticed. It was cute.

“Oh, well maybe come play with me sometimes! I have some similar games on my laptop, and once this whole murder buisness is over, maybe we could hang out and play a bit!”

His whole face lit up, and he started rambling excitedly about the game mechanics that confused him and the ones he liked, while you occasionally cut in to agree or disagree. As you left the police station, you thought you heard Morgan shout something along the lines of:

“Damn, there’s two of them now!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Leave a comment if you want me to continue this fic! Also this is my first time writing x Reader fic so if I got anything wrong lmk! I love every one of you (unless you're a n@z! but i think that's implied). stay safe my friends!


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